


Premiere Night

by Kylie



Category: Actor RPF, DC Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, PWP, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6351499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylie/pseuds/Kylie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite their mutual attraction, Henry said he was only going to have sex with Ben after 'Batman v Superman' premieres. Finally the Mexico premiere comes around.</p><p>Ben is completely smitten in this fic...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Premiere Night

"Come in."

Ben hesitates in front of the hotel room door. The corridor is empty and quiet, it's late and he should be exhausted, but he's wired too tight for that. A restless almost manic energy carried him from the Cinexplicacion to their hotel in the heart of Mexico City. It's been an evening of smiles, photographs, autographs, interviews... all the things he's so used to, but so completely different today. And this difference has a name. Henry Cavill. 

And he just told Ben to come in.

Ben opens the door. It's a big suit, like his own next door and he can't see Henry right away. Not until he comes out of the corner, and smiles.

Ben is ten years older, worldly and jaded, he's been in Hollywood since he was a child, he has two Academy Awards, he's had enough serious relationships, he was married for ten years. Why exactly is he standing there dumb struck like a teenager with his first crush?

At the sight of him, Henry switches to smile number 8: mischievous but also a little shy at the same time. This one is accompanied by quickly dropping those blue eyes to the floor, but lifting them back up to the subject's face almost immediately. Is it a sign that Ben is a terrible judge of character or that he is just so smitten, that he has no idea if Henry's smiles are carefully calculated or entirely genuine? Well, one thing is for certain, the fact that he has all of those smiles catalogued is definitely a sign that he is obsessed.

"Would you like a drink?" Henry asks, running his hand through his shower-damp, curling hair. Always unerringly polite, like in his head he is some kind of old-fashioned English gentleman. 

He waits for Ben's nod and goes to pour them both what looks like scotch. It seems like a really good idea right now. Ben follows Henry's movements with his eyes, can't help but focus on that round backside hugged snugly by a pair of blue jeans. The sight reminds Ben sharply of why he is here. As if he could forget. 

Henry changed out of that cream suit into something much more casual, jeans and a blue button down. Much more casual but still not casual enough for relaxing in your own hotel room after a long day. Ben swallows, Henry wore that for him. Blue does look particularly good on him. Irrationally Ben wishes Henry greeted him in a faded t-shirt or at least his favorite England rugby sweatshirt, easy, domestic. This brings him dangerously close to thinking about what exactly he wants from this relationship. Relationship? But thankfully at that point Henry turns back to him and hands him a glass of scotch. 

He clicks his own glass against Ben's and drinks. Ben takes a deep swig and relishes the burn of alcohol. But really at this point nothing can dull the buzz of anticipation.

"Are you going to speak tonight?" Henry smiles. (Smile number 12: playful half-grin, eyebrows raised high.)

This should set the tone for tonight, Ben thinks. Straightforward questions, straightforward answers. They are both grown-ups after all. And way back when Henry said he wanted it too. Only he was a sadistic bastard and made Ben wait until the premiere, without really explaining why.

And Ben did wait, he tried to change Henry’s mind of course, but Henry stood firm. So Ben decided for a subtler approach, he showered Henry with attention, took his side in arguments, managed to get him days off to watch important rugby matches and even talked Henry into accepting a massage a couple of times after very long days. And the thing is he enjoyed doing all these things not as a means to an end, but in and of themselves. He loved cataloguing Henry’s smiles he would receive for his efforts, loved little glimpses of the man behind the mask of this perfect gentleman, diligent in his work and delightful to every casual acquaintance. But it didn’t mean those chiseled cheekbones didn’t beg to be licked, or those full lips.

"Kiss me," Ben says. Then something, some deep lurking doubt makes him add, almost despite himself. "If you still want to."

Henry licks his lips, his red, now glistening lips, comes up right into Ben's personal space and takes away his glass, bending down to put it and his own on the low coffee table. Damn, Ben has been thinking of this moment for months. Henry straightens, his eyes meet Ben's and hold for just a few seconds that last about ten thousand years. And then Henry leans up a little and kisses him. 

It's soft and slow and easy until it's not. Until Ben is pushing into wet welcoming heat, until there's damp curling silk under his fingers, until there's a sharp desperate gasp echoing between their joined mouths. 

Ben only kissed Henry once before, way back when he didn’t even know how head over heels he really was, way back before Henry set his date for their… date. And that kiss served him as fantasy fodder for months. That day they filmed long into the night, it was a grueling shoot, more so for Henry, who spent most of it hanging off of wires. Zack was being extra critical of every minor detail, sending lighting technicians and set designers scurrying. When they finally wrapped up he told everyone most of the day's takes were unusable, the acting was flat and the action sequences basically needed to be choreographed again from scratch. Ben just turned on his heel and walked away from the fuming director, hearing Henry say something about doing better tomorrow. Where did the man get that infinite supply of patience? 

Ben reached his trailer and discarded what parts of the Batman costume he could take off on his own, namely the gloves, the helmet and the cape. As he walked back out to find someone who could get him out of that tin can he saw a glimpse of red behind Henry's trailer. The same force that was pulling him towards that perfect smile and those serious blue eyes every day, dragged him towards the ghost of red now. Henry was sat on the ground, on that magnificent cape, fists clenched, gazing unblinkingly into the middle distance. Not so infinite then, that supply of patience, Ben thought. And then he didn't think anymore, his brain just apparently switched off, because he came up to Henry, dragged him to his feet and drew him into a hug. And Henry just went with it, allowed himself to be pulled up and pulled close and held. His head fell heavily on Ben's shoulder and stayed there. Ben wanted to speak, to say that he's seen days like this in his long career, days when everything seemed pointless and too exhausting and you felt like an utter failure, but it would be alright. But Henry's no novice, he knew all of this himself and Ben really didn't want to break the moment with words anyway. 

But now that he'd given into that painful near-constant irrational urge to protect Henry from the world, he couldn't seem to keep himself in check. Ben's hand snaked up Henry's back, caressed his neck and then Henry lifted his head from Ben's cold metal-clad shoulder. Ben's fingers were pushed into a hard shell of product-laced hair, straightened and almost glued together by a faithful team of stylists. Henry looked up at him with a most open face Ben had ever seen him wear, cheeks visibly flushed even in the dim light cast by the trailer's windows, lips slightly open. Before he really knew what he was doing, Ben was kissing those lips, both hands digging into Henry’s jaw. And Henry was kissing back, pressing against the hard edges of the Batman costume, which Ben cursed silently for being so bulky he couldn't feel Henry's hard sculpted muscles against him. 

It lasted mere seconds, glorious unforgettable seconds, before Henry pulled away sharply. He didn’t look angry, sorry or confused. He looked tired and calm. 

“No,” he said evenly, stepped back and walked away.

Henry’s lips are just as red now, just as kiss-swollen as they were that day. But he is not walking away. Ben runs his thumb across Henry’s lip and Henry sucks the digit in before pulling away with an obscene pop and smiles. Smile 22: rare, seductive, promising. Ben has to kiss that smile, it’s obligatory, like breathing. And then he has to work the buttons of Henry’s blue shirt open, slowly one by one, because he’s not rushing it, not rushing anything tonight. He’s been almost painfully hard ever since their lips first touched, but he doesn’t care, he needs all of Henry, now before Henry changes his mind.

“How are you so beautiful?” Ben murmurs against Henry’s lips and pulls away to look at that handsome face, flushed with arousal, pupils dilating steadily, that one smudge of brown in his left eye so enticing Ben has to kiss the eyelid. And now all of Henry’s buttons are undone, his chest is revealed to Ben in all of its statuesque perfection, like he just stepped down from a pedestal in a Greek temple.

Ben presses his palms hard into those perfect hard-earned abs, eliciting a quiet moan from Henry. “So beautiful,” Ben repeats and he sees Henry trying to conceal how pleased he feels at the praise. He needn’t bother, Ben knows he’s worked hard to get that body, plus a certain degree of vanity goes with the job. He pushes Henry’s shirt off of his shoulders and lets it bunch up around his forearms behind his back. Ben bends down to kiss Henry’s neck, licks that golden skin, dying to leave a mark, but not quite daring to. He feels Henry’s arms and shoulders flexing, trying to get rid of the shirt without moving too much. And having him trapped even this little is just too hot. Ben runs his hands down Henry’s arms, tightening his fingers somewhere around his elbows and brings their mouths back together. Henry moans louder now, and Ben knows he needs this perfect, normally so controlled man to come apart in his arms.

“Bedroom. Now,” Henry pulls away and finally gets rid of the shirt trapping his hands. Ben is almost disappointed. Henry is the only person he’s ever wanted to protect and to use at the same time. He’s been chasing away thoughts like this ever since their first kiss.

It was a few days after that kiss when Ben drummed up the courage to confront Henry about his rejection. He’d tried putting the whole incident out of his head at first. But the fact was Henry kissed him back, was very much into it until his brain apparently kicked in and decided it wasn’t a good idea. So the potential was there and that wasn’t letting Ben just dismiss what happened. What also wasn’t letting him dismiss it was the fact that he could hardly focus on work, on anything while Henry was around, on the same set, always near. Thankfully they had no scenes together for a few days, otherwise Ben was quite sure he would’ve done something horribly embarrassing. Anyway he needed to see Henry, and try his luck, or at least clear the air.

Ben knocked on the door of Henry’s trailer three days later and was greeted by his assistant who was thankfully leaving and waved him through as she slipped out. Henry was at his dressing table, leafing through the latest script rewrites in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Ben knocked on the wall to announce his presence, and Henry looked around sharply. A look of surprise was quickly substituted by smile number 1: polite attention, tailored to put the recipient at ease and convey general friendliness. Entirely fake.

“What do you think about the changes Zack made?” Ben asked.

“They look very good, I think it’s an improvement,” Henry answered predictably.

A short silence reigned.

“Look, Henry,” Ben started. “About the other day…” He trailed off for a moment, during which Henry just stared at him evenly, without saying anything. “Are you attracted to me?”

Henry hesitated, his smile faded. Then he nodded, slowly. “Yes, I am.”

“Do I hear a ‘but’ in there?” Ben asked, keeping calm by sheer force of will. Henry was attracted to him!

“Yes,” Henry sighed and he didn’t actually move, but it felt like he slumped in his chair. “But we shouldn’t, you know.”

“Not really,” Ben made his face twist into his patent half-grin. “You’re attracted to me, I’m definitely attracted to you. What’s stopping us?”

Henry seemed to consider that. “We need to focus on work now,” he announced finally. “And if when the movie comes out…”

Ben raised a questioning eyebrow.

“After the premiere,” Henry clarified obligingly. “If then you still want to, knock on my door.”

“Which premiere?” Ben asked. He was half-hard just talking to Henry, alone, here in his trailer, but there was something perversely exiting about having to wait. For months, in close proximity to this perfect being, relishing each casual touch, each simple smile, each scene they had to do together, each fight scene…

“The last one,” Henry said.

“Oh come on,” Ben didn’t whine, because he didn’t, “how about the first one?” He gathered his thoughts. “That’s symbolic, don’t you think?”

It’s smile number 14, the amused but happy one that answers Ben. It’s a ‘yes’.

Henry leads Ben into the bedroom. Dim lights, large bed, Henry, his shirt off. Damn, how did Ben deserve this heaven? Henry sucks his lips in for a moment, then drags Ben closer, pulls off Ben’s sweater. Now Ben can press up against all that glorious muscle with his own. Let’s face it, he worked out for this bloody movie too, he’s fit as hell. The bed is just a few feet away. Ben presses his height advantage, pushes Henry back and Henry is not fighting at all, just falls back onto the sheets. All that perfection laid out just for Ben to enjoy. 

Ben follows Henry down, plants a knee between his legs and kisses him, hard, palms kneading his chest, his abs, moving down to the fly of his jeans. Those need to come off. Ben works the fly open, pushes Henry all the way down onto the bed and pulls his jeans off. Underwear’s still in the way, but that can stay for now. Henry is hard beneath the thin black fabric and it’s tempting, but Ben doesn’t touch, not yet. He has a plan, the plan he formulated during those heavy interminable months of filming, post-production, promotion. He will make it so good for Henry, he will have to beg for more. 

Henry’s hands snake around Ben’s neck, pull him down for another deep kiss. Such a delicious reward for Ben’s patience. But there is so much more of Henry he wants to taste. He licks a wet stripe down Henry’s neck and puffs a hot breath over it, making Henry shiver. Ben pushes himself down to give Henry’s nipples the same treatment. And damn, he is sensitive there, bucks right up into Ben’s mouth, grabs a fistful of Ben’s hair to keep him in place. Ben obliges, sucks on one hard nub, rubs the other and then pinches it sharply. Henry gives a cut-off groan and Ben catalogues his reactions, switches his mouth to the abused nipple and tongues it, while moving his hand to rub Henry’s stomach.

Henry tries to push his hands down to the button of Ben’s jeans, and Ben’s hard cock is really straining to be free. He doesn’t wait for Henry though and shucks the jeans himself, quickly resuming his position on top. 

Henry’s hands are back, now attacking Ben’s underwear, but Ben bats them away. “No, I’m enjoying you first.”

“Enjoying me?” Henry quirks an eyebrow.

“Yes, I’ve waited long enough,” Ben says and drops down to swipe his tongue over Henry’s belly, while one hand lingers on his chest, idly caressing.

“Haven’t I been waiting too?” Henry sounds pleasantly out of breath.

“It was your idea,” Ben reasons, “so lie back and let me have my way with you.”  
That earns Ben a resigned chuckle and he continues his exploration. He strokes, licks, nuzzles every inch of Henry’s body he can reach, except where he’s most urgently needed. And it’s a heady mix of dominance and tenderness to feel Henry start to quiver, hands trying and failing to guide Ben where he wants him. Henry can fight him of course, but Ben knows he won’t, has been noticing these subtle hints about him for a long time now. Henry likes being taken care of and that’s what Ben will do. He runs his hands down Henry’s arms and then brings them up above his head, lacing their fingers together. He straddles Henry and both their cocks touch through two layers of fabric. 

“Be-en,” Henry whines, his deep voice playing havoc with Ben’s control. Ben bends down for a hard kiss, covering Henry until they’re chest to chest, Henry’s tongue pushing into his mouth, that powerful body writhing underneath him. 

Ben is going to keep asking himself this all night, but how did he manage to wait so long for this? Rehearsing and shooting all those countless fights, grabbing, twisting, falling on top of each other in Zack’s never-ending rain… Henry’s forehead is damp with sweat now, a stray curl clinging to the middle, so oddly vulnerable. 

“Do you even know what you’ve been doing to me?” Ben breathes against Henry’s lips. “That skin tight suit, hiding… absolutely… nothing…” He punctuates each word with a kiss and pulls away. Henry chases after another touch of lips, but Ben is now moving down his body. “Smiling at me,” Ben bites down on one sensitive nipple, and, God, Henry is so responsive to his every touch, “and I just had to watch,” Ben continues down Henry’s torso, “stealing an occasional touch,” he thrusts his tongue into Henry’s belly button. Henry arches up with a long moan, but Ben pushes him back down, “waiting until you’d let me have a moment of your time, let me stay after shooting promos, let me take you out to dinner, let me hold you after a long day…” He trails off, he’s reached the goal of his descent down Henry’s sprawled body and he’s not waiting any longer. 

“Oh… Ben!” Henry cries as Ben finally mouths his straining erection right through the fabric of his underwear. How is he expected to tease when the sound of his own name from Henry’s lips is just making him lose all reason? Ben pulls Henry’s boxers down and stares hungrily at the prize he has revealed. Long, swollen and glistening at the tip. 

“Ben,” Henry’s hand lands on his head, starts kneading his neck, “I want you to suck me.”

“Yes,” Ben agrees, and licks up Henry’s shaft, cupping his balls in one hand. Damn, what was that again about being in control here? It doesn’t matter, not when he can take the tip of that beautiful cock between his lips and stick his tongue into the slit. Not when Henry’s hand tightens almost painfully in his hair, not when it’s overwhelming how good Henry tastes in his mouth. 

“Been thinking about you doing this,” Henry murmurs, his harsh broken words are urging Ben on, “so good, you’re so good, Ben…” 

Ben takes him deeper and deeper, hollowing his cheeks. And when Ben hums against his mouthful, Henry jerks so strongly he nearly dislodges him. Ben grabs his hips firmly, presses them against the bed. He hopes his hands will leave a mark, here, where only Henry will see it, and Ben will know there are bruises there, shaped like his own fingers. It’s a little scary how hot he finds it. He pulls off of Henry’s cock, ignoring his disappointed groans, and finally sheds his own underwear. 

There’s body lotion on the bedside table and Ben reaches for it. “Roll over,” Ben orders and Henry turns onto his front, looking around at Ben through long dark lashes, worries his bottom lip with his teeth. Ben grabs the lotion, but first has to claim Henry’s lips for a kiss. It’s an awkward angle, but they manage, Ben covers Henry’s body with his own, enjoys the expanse of hot flexing muscle beneath him, rubs his neglected cock on that sun-kissed skin. 

Henry twists back at the feel of it, upsetting Ben's balance. They end up side by side and Henry reaches for Ben's cock. "Want to touch you," Henry says and strokes the length of it, up, down. Ben almost blacks out from the sudden intense pleasure. "Perfect," Henry murmurs, "will feel so good inside me." The words fall like liquid velvet and nearly send Ben over the edge right there. By sheer force of will, he pushes away from Henry and has to pant for a few moments to bring himself under control. 

"Roll over," he repeats and Henry pouts at him, literally, the utter tease. "Now."

Henry obeys with a deliberate languid stretch. 

Ben sucks on the back of Henry’s neck and pulls away to drizzle a long stripe of lotion all the way down his back, the last few drops landing between his ass cheeks, making Henry hiss and buck. Ben tears his eyes away from that enticing round posterior and splays his palms over Henry’s shoulders. He straddles him and spreads the lotion all over his back.

“What are you doing?” Henry pushes into his hands, and tries to rub his erection on the sheets at the same time. The latter isn’t going so well, with Ben’s weight holding his hips down.

"I want you relaxed for what I'm going to do to you," Ben explains, then bends down to whisper right into Henry's ear, "very relaxed." He licks into the sensitive shell and then bites down for good measure.

Henry yelps, "that's not getting me relaxed," he complains, but Ben ignores him. Relaxed isn't really what he's aiming at anyway, more like desperately aroused. 

Ben caresses Henry's back, fans his fingers over his broad shoulders, sliding them down his sides, over his spine. Very slowly he shifts further down with each round of caresses, persistently touching, planting an occasional kiss to the areas that prove most sensitive to his touch.

Ben remembers the first time Henry accepted a massage from him. It was another day of flying for Superman and endless wire work for Henry. Ben's schedule was much lighter for once, but he hung around obsessing over the hard planes of that perfect body, over the intense look of concentration on that handsome face. But as the day progressed Ben could see fatigue creeping in steadily: a deeper line between the eyebrows, a slightly more unfocused look. He would've missed the signs if he hadn't been studying every aspect of Henry so diligently, especially after Henry admitted attraction to him. When filming finally wrapped up for the day and the wardrobe department peeled off the Superman costume, Ben saw Henry head for his trailer. 

When Henry emerged from the shower, Ben was waiting for him at the small table. Henry, damp from the shower, with a loose robe wrapped around him, was a sight not for the faint hearted. Henry started at the sight of Ben.

"What's going on?" He asked carefully, wrapping the robe tighter around himself.

"Just this," Ben indicated the table with a food container and a thermos of tea. 

They were not allowed to relax with a bottle of beer at the end of a tough day, because of their strict training routines, but food and tea Ben could provide. He could clearly see gratitude battle with suspicion on Henry’s face. Ben sighed.

“Look,” Ben said, “I’m here, because you looked like you were about to drop when I saw you leave the set, not because I’m after your virtue.”

Smile 18 made an appearance: amused. Clearly Henry was not up to mastering complicated emotions at the moment. He sat down across from Ben and accepted the thermos and the food. 

“Is he happy with today’s takes?” Ben asked to fill the silence.

Ben had thought seeing Henry fresh from the shower was an added bonus of tonight. But as Henry was starting to relax, loosened up by food and hot tea Ben had a sudden sharp realization that this was the bonus. Helping Henry unwind, hearing him talk about the shoot, about Gal and Amy’s jokes, about what Zack had proposed… It was warm and genuine and happy. And for the first time Ben started to think that he wasn’t just lusting after this beautiful Englishman.

“Would you like a massage?” Ben asked when Henry had finished his food. 

“What?” Henry’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“You must be stiff after all that flying,” Ben explained, “Jen used to say that I give good massages.” Mentioning the ex-wife was a low blow, of course, but if he had to play the pity card to get Henry to agree, he would.

Henry let out a slow breath and considered Ben carefully. Then he rolled one shoulder and winced, “All right then. Those wires are really killing my back.”

When Henry straddled the chair, baring his shoulders and letting the top half of the robe pool around his waist, Ben briefly questioned his sanity. So he was supposed to just rub Henry’s back without it going any further? He stretched his fingers theatrically and put his hands on Henry’s shoulders. God it was torture, the most exquisite kind. Henry’s skin felt so good under his fingers, the tense muscles relaxing as he attacked the knots he found, Henry making soft sounds of pleasure. Ben was almost lost in all of this. “Henry…” he sighed in unison with one of the man’s low moans of appreciation.

“Henry…” Ben calls now. He is so done waiting. The lotion back in his hands, Ben pours a generous amount right onto the crack of Henry’s ass and without preamble thrusts a finger inside. 

It’s like an electric shock, to both of them. Henry cries out and pushes himself onto Ben’s finger, “Yes, more!” He groans. Ben crooks his finger, thrusting deeper and adds a second one. So tight, so hot. He scissors his fingers sharply inside Henry.

Henry writhes and moans continuously underneath him now, murmuring encouragement and praise. Ben can see that he’s trying to get friction from the sheets to provide some relief to his rock hard cock, so Ben pulls his fingers out and grabs Henry across the waist, pulls him up until he’s balanced on his forearms, ass in the air. Henry whines. And there it is, finally, finally…

“Please!” Henry begs, “Please, Ben!’

It’s music to Ben’s ears. He thrusts back in, two fingers, and crooks them just so. Henry’s reaction is almost violent in its intensity and Ben does it again, again, adds a third finger, hits that sweet spot repeatedly, cruelly, providing no relief from sensation.

“Fuck me, Ben, now, please! Fuck, Ben, now!”

It’s physically painful to break away from Henry, but Ben has to, fishes a condom out of the pocket of his discarded jeans, rips the wrapper quickly and slides it on. There’s a packet of lube he brought too, so he adds it to the body lotion their bodies are already slick with. Ben rubs the head of his cock against Henry’s ass, sliding into the cleft, letting it just nudge against his opening. But no, not like this. 

Ben pushes Henry down and rolls him onto his side, Henry just going with whatever Ben wants of him now. Ben spoons behind him, brings Henry’s leg up and brushes against his tight opening again, with purpose now. He thrusts in slowly but inexorably, Henry’s tight heat enveloping him. Henry turns his head, seeking Ben’s mouth and they kiss, sloppy and perfect. 

“How could you make me wait so long?” Ben moans, “How, Henry? So perfect, you feel so… Henry, how?”

“Because I've been there before,” it’s nothing but a breath and feels like something he can only say with eyes shut tight, into a kissing mouth. And it has such a vast potential for elaboration, but none will be forthcoming.

“I love you,” Ben says, finally, painfully, but he can’t not say it. He’s all the way inside Henry and how could anyone ever hurt this wonderful, charming, kind, hard-working, funny, crazy man? 

They move together, Ben thrusting deeper, faster, Henry meeting each stroke. Ben grabs for Henry’s cock, starts to jerk him off. He surrounds Henry so completely now, it’s like they’re one person, one body. Ben loses any sense of time, he’s just sensation, the most intense, perfect, almost painful pleasure. And then Henry stiffens in his arms, cries out sharply and spills, long and hot over Ben’s fingers. Ben chases him, thrusts harder into that pulsating heat, bites Henry’s neck and comes harder than he ever remembers coming in his life.

They come back to their senses slowly in a tangle of sweaty limbs. Ben feels completely boneless as he pulls out of Henry and discards the condom. He rolls Henry over and hugs him close. It’s a few minutes before Henry lifts his disheveled head from Ben’s chest and smiles at him. 

Ben is stunned by the soft sweet brightness of that smile. He doesn’t have it in his collection, he’s never seen Henry wear a smile quite like this before. It’s him, Ben, who made Henry this happy, and he’s not going to stop trying to keep this smile on Henry’s face for as long as he can.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure I screwed up the timeline of how long the shooting, post production and so forth took place. Treat this as fantasy, please.


End file.
